


like ink washed from stone

by thecelestialcow



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 21:34:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15203960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecelestialcow/pseuds/thecelestialcow
Summary: An Emperor takes his executed subordinate's male lover for himself.





	like ink washed from stone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heavensblessing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavensblessing/gifts).



> Hope you enjoy! I have them in a vaguely historical Edo period. I didn't think about it too hard.

Saishin’s whore was seated in the corner of his room, staring out the window, the book in his lap a pathetic decoy. No doubt the young man’s thoughts were elsewhere. Kiyo took the chance to look him over, appreciating his long hair in the simple plait and the simple robes that accented his slim frame. Saishin had excellent tastes though poor judgement. 

Kiyo cleared his throat and the young man shot up in order to bow properly. 

“Stand. What is your name?” Kiyo asked. 

“Naokata,” he said, tentatively standing up. He didn’t know where to look. 

Kiyo sat down on the bed, a little more nervous but not nearly as much as this Naokata. 

“What did Saishin tell you before he died?” 

“He didn’t...we didn’t talk much,” Naokata said. He bit his lip, beautiful red already. “He told me what was expected of him and the fate of his wife and children. Saishin, he said you could be merciful.” 

“What name did he call me by?” Kiyo asked. He could have been merciful to his childhood friend but Saishin had participated in a coup to overthrow him. There was no escaping the fate of a traitor. Saishin only had death to look forward to once the coup had been destroyed and Kiyo had taken great joy in watching him slash apart his own belly. 

“He called you ‘Kiyo’,” Naokata says, eyes down. 

“Call me the same,” Kiyo said and took hold of his head to guide him for a kiss. 

Naokata responded beautifully, pressing back and letting Kiyo take the lead. He was obviously used to performing in this realm. Kiyo slipped his tongue in to taste him, delighted at how pleasant the sensation was. He’d forgotten how forceful another man could be, used to his wife and concubines; they were wonderful but he hadn’t had the touch of another man like this since his youth.

“HIs family, I let live though they are banished from the Capitol. I am merciful,” Kiyo said. “You should have died with him as well. But I will let you live as well.” 

“Thank you, my lord,” Naokata said, eyes down again. 

Kiyo put a finger under his chin and tilted his face up.

“Call me by name, Naokata. I want to see how Saishin’s boy pleasured him. He told me you wrote beautifully. What else did you do beautifully for him?” 

Naokata swallowed and moved to drop his robe, bare before Kiyo. Kiyo took a few steps back to admire the man before him, drinking in his slim chest, rounded posterior, and his soft genitals. He took a moment to take Naokata’s braid out of its bindings, delighting in the way his hair fell out. 

“Exquisite,” Kiyo said, running his hands through his hair. Naokata had his hands clenched and fought to keep his body relaxed, but he tensed everytime Kiyo’s fingers touched his supple skin. 

Kiyo laid his hands on a writing desk and picked up one of the brushes, absently dipping it into the bowl of water. He could see Naokata’s work half finished, and smirked a little to himself, knowing that Saishin’s penmanship had always been disasterous. His standing had increased amongst the nobility once Naokata had taken over writing all of his missives.

“Lay down,” he commanded and Naokata obeyed, not just simply lying down but presenting himself, legs apart and bent with his arms displayed prettily over his head. He touched him with the brush and Naokata nearly shot up. 

“My brush, no, please don’t-” Naokata tried to beg but Kiyo hushed him. 

“What use have you for these? None, now that Saishin is dead, and I have every right to kill you or cast you out. I will enjoy myself,” he said and continued, wondering how Naokata would look decorated with ink instead of just plain water. Perhaps another day, another time, and Kiyo kept on teasing him; when he traced his nipple Naokata hissed and tried to jerk away but resigned himself to lay back. 

“Ah, such obedience. And it was wasted on that fool,” Kiyo said, unsurprised to see Naokata fail to hide an ugly look. It was the first crack in the man’s demeanour but it was to be expected. Kiyo was abusing the deceased man’s name as much as he possibly could during this violation. “But you’re not that much of a fool because you understand your place especially now that he’s dead.” 

Kiyo watched as Naokata struggled to remain silent. No doubt he wanted to spit out that Kiyo had ordered Saishin executed for attempting treason. Though Saishin had split his own belly the end result of Saishin’s death was the same. The nuances probably mattered little to the grieving Naokata. 

Kiyo threw the brush down, ready to take what had once been Saishin’s. Naokata cried out as Kiyo shoved all of his writing equipment off his desk and grabbed his arms to forcibly bring him to his feet. He wasn’t gentle and he bent Naokata over the furniture, making sure to watch his face as Kiyo destroyed everything precious to him.

“I know Saishin. He didn’t pick you for your penmanship, beautiful as it is. Your first duty to him was to spread your legs and you will do the same for me now,” Kiyo said, kicking his legs apart so he could stand between them. 

Naokata’s legs and thighs trembled, deliciously soft and Kiyo dug his fingers into them, tempted to bite at them. But he wanted to be inside him now so he turned his attention instead to Naokata’s hole, which was already glistening with oil. 

“You prepared yourself for me?” Kiyo asked, inserting one finger with little trouble. He smiled at the sound, at the way Naokata tried to draw his hips away, though he had nowhere to run to. 

“Yes, my lord,” Naokata said, eyes far away. He was trying to gain some kind of grip on his desk but it was a shallow effort; perhaps he was used to being bent over it. 

“I have no desire to harm you,” Kiyo said. “So I thank you.” 

Naokata gave a violent shiver at that. Kiyo stroked his thigh to soothe him then focused on lining himself up so he could penetrate him. He went slow, stopping whenever Naokata grunted or whined, giving him time to accept him. Naokata was tight around him and Kiyo groaned once his hips were flush to Naokata’s buttocks. 

He began to thrust into him, panting and moaning his pleasure as he slowly began to build a rhythm. Now Naokata was finally openly crying but it was silent and Kiyo kissed his neck, pleased at how well he was taking him. 

He pushed Naokata higher onto the desk, enough that his toes struggled to gain purchase on the ground, and held onto his hips hard as he sought his desire. Naokata was beautiful, panting and whimpering as he was taken, his long hair shifting to show his expression in fleeting glimpses. 

Kiyo took his hair and shifted it to one side of his shoulders so he could watch his face as Naokata fought to feel anything good from his violation. But then he thought better and bunched it up in his hand so he could pull Naokata’s head back. Naokata cried out at that, and Kiyo licked at his tears, pumping into him faster at his despair. 

He let go of his hair so that he could use two hands to grab at his hips and push his seed as deep inside of him as he could. Naokata’s walls clenched around him, squeezing him dry as his climax came, and Kiyo gave a pleased sigh as his body relaxed after the exertion. He thrust a few more times to draw it out then finally drew out, cleaning himself off on Naokata’s posterior and thighs before using the man’s robe to finish. 

Naokata wasn’t even half hard but Kiyo ignored him; tonight wasn’t about his pleasure but about accepting Kiyo into his body now that his old master was dead. He drank in the sight of the defiled man barely clinging to the desk; how his hair was mussed from where Kiyo had grabbed it, his robes long discarded in the corner, Kiyo’s seed spread across him and spilling down his legs, and the way he trembled and struggled to regain his composure but ultimately failed. 

“I can see why he adored you,” Kiyo said, wiping Naokata’s tears away. “You may live in the Capitol still.” 

“Thank you,” Naokata said, and Kiyo smiled a little at hearing how broken and forced the words were. 

“If you would like, your company has been most pleasant, and I would not object to you staying,” Kiyo said, one hand on Naokata’s ass. He watched as Naokata tensed at the realization of what Kiyo was proposing and all the implications of it. 

“I could not refuse such a generous offer,” Naokata said, struggling to hold back his sobs in between some of the words. 

“Then keep your room. I think I can make much use of your penmanship,” Kiyo said, enjoying his firm buttocks and the whole of his debauched appearance. 

Nothing more needed to be said and Kiyo gave him a gentle pat before standing to straighten his clothes. He had an empire to run and Naokata needed a night to adjust to his new role as Kiyo’s whore. 

“Till tomorrow night,” Kiyo said and he lingered at the door a moment so he could hear Naokata’s first sob. Then he made his way to return to his duties, satisfied with how the matter of the traitor Saishin had been handled.


End file.
